So beautiful...

A friend of mine stumbled upon her profile on MySpace.

He mentioned it in the truck, as we drove through the city. A light rain pattering across the windshield. He was smoking a cigarette. I hung my arm out the window, enjoying the cool summer breeze. Instantly, he had my attention.

He elaborated further. Her profile lead to her private website and that's where the action was. On her private website, she had galleries posted, which featured her nude art modeling pictures. Scores of them, he said. Nude, he said.

I thought I better take a look at them.

I wasn't prepared to be impressed. She's a lovely girl, long-legged and miles of soft white skin. She has these perfect little breasts that still point optimistically forward. Her neck is long and lean. Her eyes are light blue pools that a man could drown in. She moves with a grace that men can't help but comment upon. And her smile is sheer bliss. A real dazzler. All that aside, I know this girl too well to get lost in all of that stuff.

I know this girl. We're friends. We've ridden the train together and chatted about small, pointless things and also the big challenges in the world. She has shared genuine fears of hers with me. I listened and then offered the comfort that I had on me, at the time.

I know her husband and from what little I see of him, I really like him. We have a lot in common. (Aside from his sexy, little wife.) We're both old comic nerds and we love Special Edition DVDs and shopping for cheap, used movies.

She and I perform in a show together. And have been, for over a year now. A long-standing performance relationship. And in my capacity as her fellow cast member, I've seen her in every possible configuration of undress. Sometimes, I catch myself checking her out. Most times, I let it go, un-commented upon. I thought that I was over beinf impressed with her naked form.

But in these pictures, the ones in her online gallery, she's absolutely, 100%, heart-breakingly stunning. She wears shadows like other women wear silk. It drapes across her naked form, intimately. Her delicate skin photographs well and she looks like some sort of lithe animal, watching you and judging you from afar. Interested, Engaged and a little bit untouchable. Good Christ, but she's lovely.

Yes, they were erotic. Not stroke-pics, these really were art. My mind was engaged as much as my libido was. I looked at picture after picture. Sometimes, she was a distant figure. Other times, the camera was close enough to see every pore and strand of hair. In every one of them, she clearly was the most beautiful thing in the picture. She was comfortable with her nakedness in a way that invites you to look her over and appreciate her.

I was looking at her in a new way. As much as I wanted to make love to her, I wanted to write her a poem, just as badly. (So, I came here and recorded this, remaining at enough of a distance from her that I preserve her anonymity.)
I won't treat her differently, the next time that I see her. And I won't make a move on her, because I don't want to open that particular door. But here, now, in the privacy of this post and this browser search on this computer, I worship her naked form. I quietly, resolutely adore her.

Besides, I would have to confess that the reality of actual sex with her would be a short evening of profuse apologies from me and a frustrated walk home for her.